


your hands, wet with blood

by Serie11



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Blood, Canon Compliant, Cats, Established Relationship, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Black Eagles Route, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:01:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22708141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serie11/pseuds/Serie11
Summary: Jeritza knows faith magic. Felix does not.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Jeritza von Hrym
Comments: 6
Kudos: 29
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 5





	your hands, wet with blood

**Author's Note:**

  * For [provetheworst](https://archiveofourown.org/users/provetheworst/gifts).



Felix shifts his weight, and feels a cold stone poke even deeper into his back. He’s nestled in a corner of the monastery, two walls to either side, a place where hopefully he can be alone. His shoulder aches, but he ignores it. Mercedes had been too exhausted to look at it, and Linhardt had been in the infirmary himself, and he can put up with it for a few days. He knows how to wrap his shoulder so that he doesn’t bleed out – he hasn’t become _that_ reliant on magic.

He lets out a soft _pst_ sound, and the cat in front of him stalks a few steps closer. He wriggles the bit of jerky he has in his hand, encouraging it to follow. The cat takes a step, and he draws the treat back until it is within petting range. Then he lets it snatch the treat from his fingers. After the food is gone, it sniffs his hand, and lets Felix pat it. It clambers into his lap and he tries to pretend that its small weight isn’t as comforting as it is.

A shadow crossing the path is the only warning he gets. Felix shrinks into the wall in the hopes that whoever it is simply won’t see him, but his luck hasn’t been that good in years. At least it isn’t Mercedes, coming to try and heal him. How she was still on her feet, he doesn’t know.

“Felix,” Jeritza says. As always, his eyes are probing, constantly searching for a weakness in Felix’s defences. Felix tries not to take it personally. Jeritza does it to everyone.

“What,” he spits. The cat in his lap hisses, but he strokes his hand down its back. Jeritza follows the movement, giving Felix is second’s respite from his piercing glare.

Jeritza regards him silently for several seconds. Felix refuses to give him any ground. There might be – some _thing_ between them, but Felix doesn’t want to talk to anyone right now.

“You’re injured. I can smell the blood.”

“And?”

Felix stares at the ground as he waits for the other man to answer. Finally, Jeritza lets out a sigh that might have been filled with annoyance, if Felix thought it were possible for him to be annoyed.

“Come,” Jeritza says, and continues walking. For a few seconds Felix considers just ignoring him – staying in his corner, with his cat, refusing to even lick his wounds.

 _What would be the fucking point?_ He doesn’t want to die, so he needs to fix himself up sooner or later. He doesn’t know any faith magic and he doesn’t want to bother Mercedes or Linhardt. He’s not a kid anymore, and wallowing in self-pity isn’t going to do any good. So he picks the cat up from his lap, and heaves himself to his feet. Jeritza is almost out of sight already, but that doesn’t matter. Felix knows where he’s going. There’s only one place that they go to when he uses that tone of voice.

Most of the former students of the Officer’s Academy have taken up residence in their old rooms – something Felix finds slightly tasteless, but if it makes them happy, then he doesn’t particularly care. He’d found a spare room in the knight’s quarters, which incidentally isn’t too far from Jeritza’s room.

The door is closed when Felix gets there, but he pushes it open, not bothering to knock. The place is spotless like always, a fair contrast to Felix’s mess. Jeritza is sitting at his table, writing something – probably one of the reports he does for Edelgard, the ones that Felix avoids at all costs. He puts it down when Felix appears, and gestures for him to come closer.

Felix shoves at the papers on the table and then sits on it. His shoulder throbs, and he fumbles with his cape for a few seconds to try and get it off. Jeritza pulls it off for him, and undoes the laces that keep his leathers closed. It takes him another second, but then he puts his hand on Felix’s shoulder, and it begins to glow with the soft light of faith magic. Felix grits his teeth through it, wondering if somewhere, Sylvain and Ingrid are going through the same thing. He’d seen them flee the battlefield together, blood staining their clothes… blood Felix had put there. He closes his eyes; like that would in any way help him forget. Instead it only makes the images clearer.

“You were careless today,” Jeritza murmurs. Felix could turn his face away, but that would do nothing to diminish the distance between them. Jeritza’s eyes seem even more strident in the low light. “Were you perhaps intending to die?”

“No,” Felix mutters. “I was just – sad.” He was the one who had abandoned his country, so he shouldn’t feel too surprised, but still. It hurts that his childhood friends would have no compunctions about striking him down. Then again, he had hardly stalled his blade, so he supposes everyone is equally to blame.

“It is unlike you to be so distracted,” Jeritza notes.

“It was an unlikely day,” Felix retorts, even though it wasn’t true. They were Dimitri’s retainers, now – it was inevitable that they would meet on the battlefield. Jeritza is still staring at him. Felix does turn his head now, but he can still see the way that Jeritza’s nose flares as he takes a deep breath. Stupid. This all is so stupid. Especially the warmth of Jeritza’s magic, and how it’s snaking it’s way through his system, easing deeper hurts than the one they can see.

The magic fades, and Felix flexes his arm, feeling out the range of movement. There’s the aftertaste of mint in the back of his throat and it’s still slightly sore, but only as much as it would be after a hard training session. “Thanks,” he says gruffly. “You didn’t have to.”

Jeritza simply blinks, and that is enough for Felix to know what he means. “Would you like to go and train?” he asks, and Felix stretches his neck to each side before nodding. Jeritza probably won’t ever challenge him to a proper duel to the death – he thinks that right is reserved for Byleth – but crossing blades with him is always a good way to keep his wits sharp and his thoughts full. And he wants his thoughts to be full of Jeritza, and not… anyone else.

“Yeah,” he answers. “Sounds like a plan.” There is nothing he can do now – their paths have been chosen. _He_ has chosen. He has to move forward, with the people who are now standing by his side. He cuts a look at Jeritza, and thinks that maybe that’s not such a bad thing.


End file.
